THE BIOGRAPHY OF A TIGER 69 



A tiger standing long and motionless. Then a cautious 

 paw set forward, a few more wary steps, and another long 

 halt. 



What strange feeling of disquietude is this? An 

 obscure sensation impinging on the dull animal brain. 

 Some vague influence of mind, indefinite, dim the same 

 mysterious warning that he had felt those nights so long 

 ago when fired at near his " kills " ! . . . 



But the peaceful moon shines on ; the dome of the 

 calm sky glitters ; the hushed jungle rings with a soothing 

 trill, and softly echoes the far-off tapping of the night- 

 jars. This realm of night is his and his alone. Is not 

 this his chosen beat, and shall he not stalk it now until the 

 distant dawn, the jungle-cock's first clear reveille ? Are 

 there not wild hogs at the next bend of the old river and 

 if not hogs nor sdmbar, lies not the village of Pili beyond 

 with cattle beeves, and sweet red flesh, until the early 

 mewing of the peafowl ? 



So at last reassured, the fleeting warning gone, he paces 

 on once more. Noiselessly he travels in the bright moon's 

 rays a slow and gliding shadow casting a monstrous 

 shade. 



Now the old tree looms above him ; the gloom of that 

 projecting bough lies athwart his unconscious path. He 

 is passing passing from the moonlight to the shadow, 

 the light to the dark. 



